Remember Me
by hayley.moses
Summary: Mattie, I know this sounds strange but. . .


_A/N: Hey! It's me again! It's been ages I know I know. I came up with this cool Franada prompt while working in the library yesterday so, here it is. _

_I hope you guys enjoy this one, and comment and stuff if you can. Until we meet again~_

* * *

_Mattie,_

_I know this will sound strange to you, but I'm your little brother. I'm not sure if you remember me or not, and if you don't that's okay. It's not your fault, and it's not Dad's either. Even though he blames himself to this day. _

_You see, Mattie, around twenty years ago you and I got into an accident. You were driving me somewhere and. . . I'm sorry Mattie, but this story is too long for me to say in only a couple of sentences; which is why I'm writing these letters. This way, I can remember for you and maybe just maybe you'll be able to remember them by yourself someday. The doctors continually tell me that you won't ever be getting your memory back, something about you hitting your head too hard and brain damage. . . _

_Just read these next couple of pages for me, okay? Read them for your baby brother Alfie. Remember that Dad and I love you no matter what, and we'll be waiting for you to come home someday. _

_Hopefully someday soon. _

_Lots of love, _

_Your baby brother Alfred_

It was about twenty-years ago when we got into the accident. You were driving me to-I think it was a school play, and out of nowhere the car bucked and we were thrown around the car. I was thrown around less than you were, but I was still short and had to use a car seat despite my adamant demands that I was seven and didn't need one anymore. The doctors told Dad later that the car seat had saved my life and if I hadn't been in it, my neck would've been snapped and kablam! dead Alfie.

Instead, I was alive and you were _asleep. _Whatever that meant. There were tons of times when I told Dad that I was going to school but actually went to see you in the hospital. I got caught by the school at one point and they forced me to wait in the Principal's office while I viciously argued that I couldn't stay. I had to go take care of Mattie.

_"Let me go! I have to go take care of Mattie! If I'm not there he might get sick!" _

_"Alfred, calm down, we're calling your father."_

_"No! Daddy can't take care of Mattie so I have to!"_

The lady who had been trying to keep me from leaving suddenly let go and refused to look me in the eyes. While I stood there triumphantly, hands on my hips wearing my favourite _Captain America _t-shirt. Several moments later Dad walked in; he stopped when he saw me, and smiled. I wasn't old enough to recognize it at the time but, it was a sad smile. I ran over to him and grabbed hold of his pants, standing a little behind him as though Dad was protecting me from something evil. Being the little kid I was, I started to cry and Dad took me to the hospital.

We spent the day there. I was absent mindedly babbling and reading you stories, while Dad watched us sadly. It must have been strange for him to see his eldest son, who was only seventeen, laying motionless on a bed while his youngest son-barely seven years old, was moving all around the bed; talking to the elder one as though he would answer. But to me, you _did _answer. And we talked about all sorts of things. All of the nice ladies who worked there, the doctors, and Dad all thought it was just incoherent babbling. They were wrong.

You were there with me, talking, laughing, helping me with homework that our neighbour [Kiku] brought to me from school. Well, for a while I stopped going. I refused to leave you anytime other than when visiting hours ended and you told me I should go home and go to sleep. When Dad and I got home, we would eat dinner and he let me talk and talk about how you said that you were just taking a nice long nap and were going to wake up any day now. That you were going to wake up and come straight home.

Sometime after _the _accident the hospital called us at home. From what I overheard you were fussing about and "seizing." Whatever that meant. Several long days later, the hospital called again and Dad pulled me out of bed excitedly at one in the morning. When I asked why I couldn't go back to sleep, he said it was a surprise and that I would see.

You had woken up.

It took me a minute to understand after we first entered your room at the hospital and I saw you sitting up and looking around. Dad started crying, and I ran over to you. The only problem was that you didn't know who I was. At first, I was hurt. How could my big brother not know me? I argued with you and cried until you remembered. One of the nice ladies came in during all the ruckus and told Dad that there was a high possibility of you having amnesia. Dad fell to the floor and started to cry again. It was when Dad fell that you burst out of bed and ran to him. I was too little to understand what had happened, and wouldn't understand about the amnesia until Francis came and things got worse.

In the beginning you were all right. Every now and again you would get lost in the house, wandering around saying, "_Help! Help me I'm lost, I don't know how to get home! Help help help!" _Sometimes you would start counting. Dad said that it was to help you from yelling or getting upset. Neither of which I understood. Several months had gone by, and the doctors said you were getting better while Dad was getting sick. They wouldn't tell me what and refused to talk to you in case something they said 'triggered you' and then you suddenly couldn't remember where you were again. This happened a lot when we were at the store.

Dad told me not to wander off and leave you alone anymore, and he talked to the store manager about what had happened to you. Saying something about being mindful of his sons, and to call him immediately if something bad happened. Usually, you would drop what you were holding and look around blankly; trying to figure out who and where you were. Most of the time I noticed right away and brought you 'back to earth' as one of our neighbours put it, making you take us home as soon as possible. Dad had to work a lot, and never explained why he took so many extra 'shifts' or why he stopped answering the phone when certain people called. Grandma would come to visit sometimes and call Dad a recluse and that he needed to come back to the real world and stop worrying so much. Dad argued that he was just trying to take care of his sons and that he was not going to accept any handouts from her.

"_Or anyone else for that matter!"_

_"Damn it Arthur! Listen to me for once! This is for the sake of your children and my grandchildren!"_

_"Since when have you given a damn about my sons! You never liked my wife and came to see my children once, leaving after you claimed that they looked like their mother too much for your liking! You hypocritical hag! Get out of my house immediately!"_

Dad and Grandma would fight every time she came over and as soon as her car left our driveway Dad would sit down in his chair and sigh. Muttering to himself and having a glass of something brown with ice in it. The more often she came over, the more he drank.

Dad never asked Mom for help. I never understood why, and at the time was too timid to bother Dad about it. I _did _hear him talk to her on the phone late at night a couple of times, and heard her voice. It was pretty, like a song. Almost every time I overheard Dad talking to Mom on the phone I was on my way to your room, ready to climb into your bed and 'keep my big brother safe'. Every now and again two men in suits would come and tell Dad that if he didn't do one thing or another they would take you away. And each time they came was because you had had an "episode". One day a lady came instead of the two men in suits. She brang a boy who was about your age at the time, telling Dad that the boy's name was Francis Bonnefoy, and that he was an experienced caretaker in the field of memory care who she had brought to aid you at home. She also said that 'the State' would pay Francis' wages and that it may take some time for you to get used to a new person. Francis was nice and helped out with everything. He did the dishes, washed our clothes, helped me when I got stuck on Language Arts homework, literally everything.

It took you about a year to finally adjust to having another person living with us and when you finally did you seemed to really like him. The longer Francis stayed, the more Grandma came over. Except she started to develop a strong distaste for Francis and the way you two interacted. She would call the two of you 'fruits' or 'poofters' or 'fairies'. It wasn't until my junior year of highschool that I learned what those words meant. She became incredibly cruel while Dad became more sick. It was a very slow progressing sickness, and Dad refused to tell us what exactly he had.

Not knowing was excruciating, and there were many nights where I gathered the courage to ask and he would tell me not to worry, that he was going to get better soon. As I grew older I began to question those words.

_Mattie,_

_I'm not sure if any of this will make sense to you, but I sincerely hope that it'll help you get your memory back because if it doesn't. . . If it doesn't I'm almost positive that it will break Dad's heart and he'll pass away from misery. He needs you to remember him Mattie. Even recognizing him would do the trick. Please Mattie, I'm begging you. Remember. _

_I'll continue soon, lots of love,_

_Your baby brother Alfred_


End file.
